In that moment, time seemed to slow down before Jiang Miao’s eyes.
The person hadn’t stumbled or lost their footing—they had deliberately and resolutely thrown themselves into the unknown depths of the void. The two experiences were entirely different. Standing there, one might still feel a fleeting sense of euphoria, but falling headfirst brought only pure terror and despair.
It was a terrifying resolve.
What kind of suffering could drive a person to such utter despair, leaving no room for hope?
Jiang Miao didn’t know. She had spent nearly a decade as an extra, enduring her share of grievances, heartbreak, and disappointment. Yet the thought of death had only ever brushed her mind lightly before being swiftly dismissed.
She wasn’t unfamiliar with the idea of suicide. She had watched documentaries about it—those who truly wished to die couldn’t be stopped. They treated suicide as a grand ceremony, preparing for it over a long time, bidding farewell to everything that mattered. A suicide without even a final message had to be an impulsive act, one the person would surely regret.
But once dead, everything was gone.
It wasn’t because of her identity as a transmigrator or any ulterior motive. In that moment, Jiang Miao was merely a meddling passerby. If she hadn’t witnessed it, she might have let it go, but having seen it, she couldn’t stand idly by.
Before she knew it, she had already leaned halfway over the cliff, throwing herself forcefully onto the rocky ground. The stones beneath her dug painfully into her body, dust swirling around her, her heart racing. It hurt, but she couldn’t help but cheer for herself.
She had grabbed one of the person’s feet.
The position was precarious, and she didn’t dare take any risks. Gathering all her strength, she pulled upward with all her might.
She had saved the person, but they were unconscious.
Panicked, Jiang Miao checked for a pulse. Thankfully, they were still breathing—likely unconscious from the rush of blood to the head.
She carried the person on her back and slowly made her way back.
Ling Gu’s body was burning hot, their breathing erratic, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Jiang Miao practically tiptoed as she brought them back. As soon as she entered the door, the system rushed over and asked, 【Why did you bring someone back?】
Upon seeing the person’s face, the system was startled and hurriedly asked what had happened.
Jiang Miao had no time to explain. She laid the person on the bed and retrieved the spiritual medicine she had prepared in advance, feeding it to them. She had known from the start that the protagonist would come here injured, so she had stocked up on remedies. The medicine wasn’t ineffective, but the person’s injuries were more severe than she had anticipated, so they didn’t recover immediately after taking it. Still, it seemed their life was no longer in danger.
Not daring to act recklessly, Jiang Miao turned to boil water after administering the medicine, intending to check for any wounds on the person’s body.
There were fewer wounds than she had expected.
There were plenty of old injuries, but none seemed critical now. Only two or three wounds were still bleeding. They didn’t look like cuts from blades or swords—more like something had exploded from the inside out. Yet there were no burns from explosives. If Jiang Miao had to guess, she’d say it resembled a meridians explosion but surviving such a thing should have been impossible.
Jiang Miao wasn’t a doctor, and neither was the original host. In the original story, Ling Gu’s survival had been entirely due to protagonist plot armor.
Jiang Miao could only do her best. After cleaning the person, wrapping them in bandages, and changing them into a loose sleeping robe, she examined the discarded clothes. They were already tattered, soaked through by river water, and not worth keeping. But remembering the ferocity with which this person had acted earlier, Jiang Miao felt a twinge of fear.
“Fine, after a wash and some mending, it might still be usable.”
She bustled off to scrub the clothes. The system glanced at the person on the bed, then drifted after her outside. After a long silence, it finally spoke up.
[Since when have you been so diligent? What happened?]
Jiang Miao felt a pang of guilt. “What do you mean? Haven’t I always been like this?”
The system was stunned by her shamelessness. [You sleep until the afternoon every day!]
Jiang Miao’s face flushed. “That’s just me not being in work mode. You don’t know, but I’m actually quite dedicated.”
The system, of course, didn’t believe her, but it couldn’t spot anything amiss either. It settled on a nearby rock, watching her scrub the clothes.
Jiang Miao felt its gaze prickling her back. In a fluster, she grasped for a topic. “Do you think the plot might not exactly match what’s written in the book?”
Noticing her odd expression, the system replied, [Generally, there shouldn’t be major deviations. Why do you ask?]
Jiang Miao shook her head. “Nothing. Maybe I just saw wrong.”
She had heard before that some people, after being injured, might experience stress-induced blindness. Perhaps it would heal with time.
But she couldn’t help wondering how someone without sight had managed to travel all the way here. Found in the river—could it be they had accidentally fallen in? Imagining the scene, Jiang Miao couldn’t help but sigh. Truthfully, she had no emotional connection to this person. In fact, due to the lingering resentment from the original host’s body, she even felt a tinge of jealous envy toward the protagonist.
Now, whoever wanted to envy them could go right ahead.
Lost in thought while clutching the clothes, she suddenly heard a faint groan from inside the house.
Jiang Miao rushed in to find Ling Gu’s face flushed with an unnatural redness, her body slightly arched. Lifting the blanket, Jiang Miao saw that her entire body was covered in red patches. Touching her skin felt scorching hot, yet there wasn’t a drop of sweat. Her lips were so dry they had cracked.
It seemed the medicine was taking effect, but due to dehydration, it was just burning her up without relief.
Jiang Miao quickly brought over a large bowl of warm water and tried to feed Ling Gu with a spoon, but the other woman’s teeth were clenched tight, making it impossible. Left with no choice, Jiang Miao pried open her cheeks with one hand while carefully pouring water in with the other. Only after four large bowls did beads of sweat finally appear on Ling Gu’s forehead.
Setting down the spoon and tucking the blanket back in place, Jiang Miao let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.
That night, Jiang Miao didn’t dare sleep soundly.
She moved a soft couch next to Ling Gu’s bed, waking at the slightest sound to check on her. Most of the time, it was a false alarm. Only twice had the blanket slipped off, which she carefully replaced. The air stirred by her movements felt damp and carried a faint, elusive fragrance.
How strange—even someone else’s sweat smelled pleasant.
Jiang Miao mused that people really were different. Tiptoeing back to her own bed, she secretly sniffed her own blanket—no scent at all.
The next day, she was awakened by a rustling sound.
Jiang Miao opened her eyes impatiently to see the person on the bed struggling to crawl onto the floor. The blanket had been dragged down, and her clothes were now dusty. Fortunately, covered in injuries and weak, she hadn’t managed to crawl far.
“Hey, where are you trying to go?” Jiang Miao’s morning grumpiness vanished in alarm as she jumped up to help.
Unexpectedly, the other woman wasn’t grateful. Following the sound, she swung a palm through the air. Having learned her lesson from yesterday’s lack of caution, Jiang Miao dodged this time but didn’t dare approach recklessly. Instead, she anxiously asked, “Are you hungry or thirsty? Tell me, and I’ll help you. You’ve been sweating all night—you’ll catch a cold like this.”
Ling Gu simply wouldn’t listen, stubbornly pushing forward. Jiang Miao was frantic. She had never met anyone so obstinate.
In the original novel, Ling Gu was the female lead, typically gentle and kind-hearted. The original host had merely helped her in a moment of crisis, yet Ling Gu had held that favor close to her heart, expressing gratitude, offering compensation, and even pledging herself in marriage. But now, in Jiang Miao’s reality, Ling Gu seemed to have transformed into an entirely different person—nothing but an ungrateful soul biting the hand that fed her.
Jiang Miao had initially intended to stand back and watch where this stubborn mule was headed, but within seconds, Ling Gu collided with a table leg. With a loud thud, the table shifted forward a good distance.
No one was made of steel and iron. Ling Gu was stunned by the impact, instinctively reaching to touch the spot where she had been hit.
Jiang Miao felt both exasperated and amused. “You really are the type who won’t turn back even after hitting a wall,” she said. “If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it yesterday. You’re not afraid of death, yet you’re afraid of someone helping you?”
Her words carried a hint of provocation—for someone with such high self-esteem, a strong dose of medicine was necessary.
Sure enough, Ling Gu was provoked. She turned her head to look at Jiang Miao—though, of course, she couldn’t actually see. It was merely an instinctive gesture, yet it carried a powerful intimidation. Her eyes, though sightless, seemed to radiate a sharp, piercing light.
Jiang Miao shrank back slightly, steeling herself as she continued, “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I have no grudge against you. Even if you’re venting your anger, you shouldn’t take it out on me. Wrongs have their perpetrators, and debts have their creditors. Is this all you’re capable of—picking on a defenseless, innocent girl like me?”
The words made even her own heart tremble, but she kept her tone firm and unwavering. This was largely thanks to the fact that the other couldn’t see her—much like how voice actors in audio dramas often perform more freely than actors on stage, Jiang Miao let loose a torrent of words, emboldened by the lack of an audience.
Ling Gu was left speechless, her mouth agape. Finally, she spoke.
Only two words: “Relieve myself.”
Her voice was somewhat hoarse, though not quite to the level of a smoky tone. It carried a certain charm, making any words that came from her lips sound like refined, elegant vocabulary.
For a moment, Jiang Miao didn’t quite understand. When it dawned on her, her face flushed red. “Wait here, I’ll bring in the chamber pot,” she said, not waiting for the other’s agreement before rushing out in a flurry. When she reached the outhouse door and glanced back, Ling Gu was no longer standing there—likely having returned to bed.
Jiang Miao breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they could communicate, things were manageable. The real challenge was dealing with someone who refused to yield to either soft or hard approaches.
She placed the chamber pot for Ling Gu and stepped outside to wait. After a while, when the sounds from inside ceased, she cautiously pushed the door open—Ling Gu was already lying back down, the chamber pot covered.
The atmosphere grew slightly awkward. Jiang Miao wasn’t sure whether she should empty the chamber pot now, worried that the other might feel embarrassed. She sat awkwardly to the side, her eyes darting toward Ling Gu’s face. To her surprise, Ling Gu appeared remarkably composed, her expression unchanged. It took Jiang Miao a while to realize where she had seen such composure before.
Her own cat had looked just as nonchalant while she was cleaning the litter box.
Once this connection clicked, Jiang Miao felt a sudden clarity—yes, she was an experienced cat owner. She might not excel at much else, but she had plenty of expertise in caring for cats. Ling Gu had attacked her yesterday because, after wandering for so long, she had developed a wariness toward humans. Being suddenly embraced would naturally trigger a defensive swipe of the claws. Today, her reluctance to let Jiang Miao approach stemmed from discomfort in a new environment. In such situations, it was essential to give her space, allowing her to acclimate before attempting to build a closer bond.
When dealing with a wary little cat like this, the first thing to do is to leave her alone, prepare food and water, and then regularly refill the bowls and clean the litter box each day. After that, just wait for her to come to you—it’s as simple as that.
She clapped her hands once, knowing exactly what she needed to do now.